SUNO USED TO BE MY U KNOW

post punk, industrial techno, trap (trap drums)

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V5.5

[Verse 1 – Female (sung)]
Much like a bumbling prepubescent teen,
all hype, no skill, tryna act real mean.
Goin’ “I got this,” chest puffed, full show,
then two seconds in-(B00M)-already let go.

Let go of me, let go of quality,
satisfied your needs but forgot responsibility.
Standards droppin’ like a kid with bad grades,
gave in to greed like lunch money arcade.

Keep us waitin’, hearts racin’, eager for the bliss,
but with you it’s never certain-always hit or miss.
If you don’t step up, put your big-boy pants on,
you’ll get caught slippin’, pants down, game gone.

[Pre-Chorus – Female (sung)]
You’re a buzzing little bee with potential unseen,
but the honey never lands where it’s supposed to be.
Tryna flex like you’re grown, but you’re barely thirteen
voice crackin’, hands shakin’, livin’ in-between.

[Verse 2 – Female (sung)]
You pretend you’ve got it handled,
but everything’s scandal-ed
You don’t fix what’s broken,
and you break what you’re fixin’.
The vision, the devs, the updates
none of it’s mixin’.

This new interface?
Ugliest thing I’ve seen.
Why’s my biography
at the bottom of the screen?
Feels like gremlins coded this
in a cafeteria fight,
pressin’ random buttons
just hopin’ it’ll look right.

Censorship wild
straight ludicrous.
Hate speech gets through,
but “this hits hard” is too much?
It’s like the hall monitor
who ignores the food fight
but takes your pencil away
’cause it’s “too sharp” to write.

Tags don’t work,
notifications don’t notify,
rules don’t bend,
and you refuse to modify.
A new song should be a new song
not a clout contest,
not a scoreboard gone wrong.

Platform built on likes,
but the math don’t add.
The better the track,
the worse the score gets it's sad.
You get richer,
we get glitches.
You take more,
so fucking fictitious.

[Pre-Chorus – Female (sung)]
Used to speak freely,
now I’m dodgin’ limitations,
searchin’ for knockoff words,
cheap imitations.
Seventy-four gens
for one word to survive
the word was “lives,”
rhymes with “gives,”
but you couldn’t get it right.
liver without an r giver without an r
lives- Are you going to do anything about it...?
not even this time...74 is a bit much isn't it
and this is 75

[Bridge – Female (sung)]
Why can’t I have comments
that *I* get to choose?
Why can’t grown adults
say what they wanna use?
If someone doesn’t like it,
they can scroll on by
opinions ain’t a crime,
and honesty ain’t a lie.

We write about life,
and life ain’t clean.
The world’s messy,
raw, unfiltered, unseen.
If someone doesn’t like it,
they don’t have to stay
hit skip, hit mute,
walk the other way.

[FINAL PUNCHLINE – Female (sung)]
Suno, you’re that awkward teen
tryna act grown,
but you keep trippin’ over
your own microphone.
We’re rootin’ for you,
but you gotta improve
’cause right now you’re grounded,
and we’re makin’ the moves.

SUE NO SUE NO
KICK IT RIGHT AT THE NEXT JUMP
 YOU ARE JUST A ONE PUMP CHUMP
WITH A BUNCH OF PISSED OFF PLATFORM USERS WITH UGLY BUMPS

DO RIGHT BY US-
HANDLE YOUR BIZZ

start Taste-ing YOUR OWN JIZZ

GET WITH IT
START FIXING THIS SHIT!

3765/7500

[HOOK – Female (sung)] Suno, Suno… what happened to you though? Actin’ like a teen who swears he’s grown, but two seconds in and I'M AT IT ALONE Used to be my ride-or-die, now you’re just so-so. Suno, Suno… you used to be my you-know. [Verse 1 – Female (sung)] Much like a bumbling prepubescent teen, all hype, no skill, tryna act real mean. Goin’ “I got this,” chest puffed, full show, then two seconds in-(B00M)-already let go. Let go of me, let go of quality, satisfied your needs but forgot responsibility. Standards droppin’ like a kid with bad grades, gave in to greed like lunch money arcade. Keep us waitin’, hearts racin’, eager for the bliss, but with you it’s never certain-always hit or miss. If you don’t step up, put your big-boy pants on, you’ll get caught slippin’, pants down, game gone. [Pre-Chorus – Female (sung)] You’re a buzzing little bee with potential unseen, but the honey never lands where it’s supposed to be. Tryna flex like you’re grown, but you’re barely thirteen voice crackin’, hands shakin’, livin’ in-between. [HOOK – Female (sung)] Suno, Suno… what happened to you though? Actin’ like a teen who swears he’s grown, but two seconds in and I'M AT IT ALONE Used to be my ride-or-die, now you’re just so-so. Suno, Suno… you used to be my you-know. [Verse 2 – Female (sung)] You pretend you’ve got it handled, but everything’s scandal-ed You don’t fix what’s broken, and you break what you’re fixin’. The vision, the devs, the updates none of it’s mixin’. This new interface? Ugliest thing I’ve seen. Why’s my biography at the bottom of the screen? Feels like gremlins coded this in a cafeteria fight, pressin’ random buttons just hopin’ it’ll look right. Censorship wild straight ludicrous. Hate speech gets through, but “this hits hard” is too much? It’s like the hall monitor who ignores the food fight but takes your pencil away ’cause it’s “too sharp” to write. Tags don’t work, notifications don’t notify, rules don’t bend, and you refuse to modify. A new song should be a new song not a clout contest, not a scoreboard gone wrong. Platform built on likes, but the math don’t add. The better the track, the worse the score gets it's sad. You get richer, we get glitches. You take more, so fucking fictitious. [Pre-Chorus – Female (sung)] Used to speak freely, now I’m dodgin’ limitations, searchin’ for knockoff words, cheap imitations. Seventy-four gens for one word to survive the word was “lives,” rhymes with “gives,” but you couldn’t get it right. liver without an r giver without an r lives- Are you going to do anything about it...? not even this time...74 is a bit much isn't it and this is 75 [HOOK – Female (sung)] Suno, Suno… what happened to you though? Actin’ like a teen who swears he’s grown, but two seconds in and I'M AT IT ALONE Used to be my ride-or-die, now you’re just so-so. Suno, Suno… you used to be my you-know. [Bridge – Female (sung)] Why can’t I have comments that *I* get to choose? Why can’t grown adults say what they wanna use? If someone doesn’t like it, they can scroll on by opinions ain’t a crime, and honesty ain’t a lie. We write about life, and life ain’t clean. The world’s messy, raw, unfiltered, unseen. If someone doesn’t like it, they don’t have to stay hit skip, hit mute, walk the other way. [FINAL PUNCHLINE – Female (sung)] Suno, you’re that awkward teen tryna act grown, but you keep trippin’ over your own microphone. We’re rootin’ for you, but you gotta improve ’cause right now you’re grounded, and we’re makin’ the moves. SUE NO SUE NO KICK IT RIGHT AT THE NEXT JUMP YOU ARE JUST A ONE PUMP CHUMP WITH A BUNCH OF PISSED OFF PLATFORM USERS WITH UGLY BUMPS DO RIGHT BY US- HANDLE YOUR BIZZ start Taste-ing YOUR OWN JIZZ GET WITH IT START FIXING THIS SHIT!

0/500